


Sway

by PurpleProsaist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Drabble, Family Drama, Post-Quest, Purple Prose, Seasickness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 14:02:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18033095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleProsaist/pseuds/PurpleProsaist
Summary: The floor, the walls, the bed, all sway, rocking like an oversized cradle...





	Sway

The floor, the walls, the bed, all sway, rocking like an oversized cradle. Sam has been nauseous, nonstop for weeks now — however this entire time, it's been no worry on his mind, the acid not registering to his senses. 

Until, of course, he starts making connections that lead his thoughts back to babes. Then the impending bile makes itself present, threatens him something cruel. This happens often; everything reminds him. Sam has never known a deeper shame. 

Sam gazes upon Frodo's pale face. His serene features seem so old, and yet so young, and this frightens Sam beyond any other terror he has ever known. 

Elrond stands at his side, equally studious in watch of the ill hobbit. In silence, his company provides Sam some modicum of relief. Frodo's survival has been at this Elf's hands, and of all of Sam's burdens, they seem to have one particularly festered wound in common. But then Elrond speaks: "The light in him grows stronger still as we come nearer to the Undying Lands." 

Sam struggles to bite his tongue — does so literally in a pitiful attempt to hold back the tears (the sting only brings them quicker). "It's awful kinda of you to try to offer me comfort, Master Elrond, sir," he chokes. "I appreciate it, I do, but, pardon me, we both know I don't deserve it none. It's my fault he's this way. When he wakes up, it won't change the fact I almos' killed him. Filled his poor ol' lungs with this wicked sea, I did." 

Elrond remains wordless, but instead of moving to exit the room as he had initially meant to, he takes a seat beside Sam, sitting in civil, inwardly thoughtful silence for a long time. Sam has taken up Frodo's hand again. 

Home lie far behind him in the East now, and in front of him in the West, and unconscious at his side. (Unconscious and innocent and beloved, and it all just seems too unjust to bear any longer.) Yet despite this, and despite Sam's churning insides, his homesickness ails him more. 

Eventually, his fingertips receive a gentle squeeze in return (as Frodo had been gifting him intermittently for the past few days), and he has to say, however meekly, though he knows the Elf lord's ears will catch it anyway, "Thank you for helping him." 

An elegant, knobby hand settles on Sam's shoulder in solidarity then, but he does not notice its weight for the sudden flutter of Frodo's lashes.

**Author's Note:**

> Why, yes, it would be far too OOC of Sam to abandon his wife and daughter! — however, I never claimed that was exactly what happened. ;) The sense of abandonment I tried to portray was largely biased by Sam's POV. Since he'd never abandon them, his guilt would know no end were they separated. 
> 
> Honestly, out of all of the fic I'm dying to get out there, this little thing (an idea I've had awhile but never actually intended to write down) was written in no more than two days. New record for me; I usually take months to pin down the wording of half a sentence. 
> 
> I would adore hearing your most truthful opinion! Thanks for checking this out!


End file.
